


I guess they don't like me but I never figured out why (I guess they think I don't like them either)

by kiyokosturtle



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, I will be selectively ignoring the comics uwu, I'm the captain now, Minor Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), There is no therapy, only Zuko's determination for reconciliation, please give these kids some therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyokosturtle/pseuds/kiyokosturtle
Summary: It's been a year since Zuko took the throne, and he has very few regrets.One of those few is locked away in the Fire Nation's royal prison.Maybe it's time for him to address that.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	I guess they don't like me but I never figured out why (I guess they think I don't like them either)

**Author's Note:**

> The WIP for this is titled "We All Have Daddy Issues Bitch Have Some Fruit" so take that as you will.

One of Zuko’s first acts as Firelord had been replacing all his father’s ministers and generals.

He couldn’t stand being surrounded by the people who were the architects of so much of the damage the Fire Nation had caused. 

It was his job to burn out every shred of that imperial legacy, and they would be the tinder.

How many of them had laughed as they planned their next move, sending people to die on the frontlines to line their pockets?

How many of them sat by and watched the Fire Nation decimate the other nations, or worse, played an active role in it?

How many of them had sat by and watched—relished even—how Ozai had maimed his child, who had thrown himself at Ozai’s feet?

Removing them from their positions had been easy enough. It had been finding their replacements that was a challenge.

It was one of the few times he turned to his uncle for assistance.

* * *

Zuko was young: he was aware of that now more than ever. He had been banished when he was even younger. Outside of the ministers and generals that buzzed around the halls of the royal palace during his childhood, he knew very few of the people in charge.

He relied on Iroh to help him with selecting and appointing the new ministers.

“General Maruyama was a vocal supporter of your father,” Iroh said, scratching his chin. “If you are looking for someone to lead demilitarization efforts, consider Xu Fen.”

Zuko pulled Xu’s scroll in front of him, shifting on his cushion. “It says here Xu was banished due to suspicions of treason.”

Iroh nodded. “Yes, he was banished, much like you were. But since your coronation, he’s been making his way back to the caldera to appeal his banishment. He stopped here for tea some time ago. It was good to catch up with an old friend.”

His uncle chuckled and picked up his teapot, topping off both his and Zuko’s cup. “You and Xu would likely butt heads. He’s a stubborn, prideful man—”

Zuko put the scroll down. “—then why would I want to appoint him?”

“—with a good heart,” Iroh finished. He raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same of you, Firelord Zuko.”

Zuko averted his gaze and lifted the scroll again. With his free hand, he picked up his cup of tea. “So he’s a stubborn man who I will likely butt heads with. How does that make him a good addition to my circle?”

“Tension and resistance can be good, nephew,” Iroh replied, taking a sip of tea. “Your upbringing has raised you to think of things in terms of antagonistic opposition. Yes, Xu will challenge you, and bring up issues you might not have even thought about.”

Iroh placed his cup on the table. “But it is important to have those different perspectives present when leading. That is why the Firelord has ministers and generals in the first place. They are not meant to act simply as channels to enforce the Firelord’s will, but as advisors, offering differing viewpoints.” He sighed, placing his hands in his lap. “Of course, since Sozin, that role has become diminished. But it is time we bring it back. Xu was banished for speaking out against the war. His goals and ideals align with your own, but he has always been pragmatic and detail-oriented. The opposition he offers does not come from a place of pride, but from compassion for individuals, and will only make your decisions stronger.”

Zuko tilted his head. “You called him a friend. How did you meet?”

Iroh smiled. “A year after my defeat at Ba Sing Se, I came across him in an Earth Kingdom tavern. He called me a bloodsoaked imperialist and threw the contents of his cup onto me. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“And you didn’t get mad?”

His uncle laughed. “Mad? I was furious. I nearly burned down the tavern.” He paused. “But I realized he was right. I had burned down so many villages, plundered so many settlements in the name of the Fire Nation. I was convinced only unity could bring harmony. But what the Fire Nation offered was not unity, nor harmony.”

Iroh put down his cup. “I only wish it hadn’t taken so long for me to discover that.”

Zuko nodded. “Xu Fen it is then.”

* * *

Zuko’s eyes fell on the portrait of his mother on the wall.

He’d found it one day, tucked away in an old room he’d ducked into to escape his courtly duties.

It seemed one of the servants had felt brave enough to risk his father’s wrath to preserve it.

Zuko had asked for it to be hung in the general’s meeting room, where it would serve as a silent reminder of where their Firelord came from.

It was a rare portrait where Ursa did not look resigned or withdrawn—perhaps because she was alone, away from the domineering eye and hands of his father.

Instead she sat upright, her gaze sharp, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she could see something in the distance but couldn’t quite make it out.

He realized with a start how much she looked like Azula.

_“My own mother thought I was a monster. She was right of course—but it still hurt.”_

Zuko’s hand twitched beneath the table. The only thing keeping him from raking his hand through his hair was the knowledge that doing so would ruin the work Ming had put into making him look presentable.

He pushed back his chair, the wood legs scraping against the polished floors.

His ministers’ gazes snapped to him.

“This meeting is adjourned for the day,” Zuko said, allowing his voice to fall into the even, bored-sounding timbre he adopted for courtly duties—the one that made egotistical nobles dismiss him as a spoiled prince-turned-ruler. “We will look over the plans with fresh eyes tomorrow.”

He smiled and stood, allowing his voice to warm. “Now please, go home and spend time with your families. I’m sure their faces will be a more welcome sight than mine.”

The ministers looked back and forth at one another before pushing pack their chairs, bowing, and departing.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked over to see Suki smiling at him.

“It always surprises me how good you are at playing politician, My Lord,” she said.

Zuko shrugged. “Yeah, well, I spent weeks playing mediator between Toph, Katara, and Sokka: this is easy compared to that. At least Minister Xu can’t hurl boulders, or throw boomerangs, or shoot ice daggers at me if I get in his way,” he replied, starting down the hall. “And stop calling me ‘My Lord’, I’m just Zuko to you.”

“Fine, I’ll stop when we’re alone. But the second advisors and ministers and adults start showing up, it’s back to Firelord and My Lord for you,” Suki quipped. 

After a moment, she sobered. “You were quieter than usual at the meeting. Is everything alright?”

He removed his headpiece—the meeting was over, Ming would have to forgive him—and ran a hand through his hair. “I was thinking about Azula,” he confessed.

Suki’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly, and her pace faltered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You’re my bodyguard,” Zuko said, slowing down so she could catch up. “Listening to me talk about my family problems isn’t part of your job description.”

Suki’s eyes crinkled. “I may be your bodyguard—” she tucked his freed hair behind his burned ear, “—but I’m also your friend. And I’m here for you when you want to talk.”

Zuko stopped, leaning his cheek into her gloved palm. He closed his eyes.

It had been a year since he’d left his father’s side, but he was still not used to such casual affection from those around him. He felt himself drawn to it regardless; he didn’t realize how much he craved warmth that wouldn’t burn him until he received it.

“Zuko?”

He opened his eyes. “Alright. But let’s wait until we’re back in my quarters.”

Suki’s eyes widened. She recovered quickly, and nodded, seemingly understanding Zuko’s desire for privacy.

While Zuko was well liked by his people and staff, he knew there were still dissidents in his halls—those who preferred the rigid nationalism, unchecked aggression and greed his father fostered and encouraged.

Not many had the means and motive to send the assassins after all.

He didn’t see any reason to risk being overheard by an opportunistic minister or official.

The two walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

Zuko had grown to savor this: these quiet moments with friends where he didn’t have to worry about what he was saying or wasn’t saying, where he didn’t overanalyze every move, sound and sigh or struggle to fill empty space. It was so different from the oppressive silence of his childhood, the weight of which had threatened to suffocate him.

They reached the door that led to Zuko’s quarters.

Zuko saw how Suki’s eyes drifted to the larger, grander doorway at the end of the hall—the one that opened into the Phoenix Wing.

He knew that traditionally, the Firelord resided in that wing. He understood the importance of tradition, especially in a nation who had lost touch with its roots during militarization.

But the thought of sleeping in the same room his father had once occupied, of living in the same rooms that Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai planned raids and calculated casualties and prisoners made him want to burn the entire wing to the ground.

Maybe one day, when he was a braver man, he would do so.

But for now, he knew how it would look: the enraged actions of a boy-king who was all too eager to follow in the violent footsteps of his predecessors, no matter what silver-tongued promises and speeches he offered that said otherwise.

The sound of the door creaking broke him out of his reverie.

“You really gotta have this door oiled,” Suki commented, opening the door for him.

Zuko choked out something resembling a laugh. “I probably should. Would it be strange for me to say I kind of like that it creaks?”

Suki shook her head. “Everything in this palace is so quiet and well maintained,” she said. “I’m used to living somewhere where it’s never truly silent at night. Having the door creak is—”

“Comforting,” Zuko said, finishing her sentence.

He knew what she meant. In the three years of his exile, he’d grown accustomed to the constant noise of machinery, and of people moving about.

Suki nodded. “It makes it feel more normal. But the door does make your midnight excursions more difficult.”

Zuko felt his neck warm, but did his best to keep a straight face. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Suki’s lip quirked. “Word around the palace is that Lady Ursa’s theatre masks have gone missing. But I’m sure you had nothing to do with that, and that the scuff marks on your window frame are entirely coincidental.” She pushed past him and walked into the room.

“The scuff marks are from my daytime walks in the garden,” Zuko said, following her into the room.

Suki raised a painted eyebrow. “You climb through the window when you go to visit your turtleducks?”

Zuko nodded. “If I walk through the halls, some minister will approach me and try to push their agenda. Climbing through the window means I get to go straight to the garden.”

“And I’m sure that dropping down to the ground from the second floor in your full Firelord regalia doesn’t pose any challenges.”

“I’m not always wearing my regalia,” Zuko grumbled, refusing to meet Suki’s eye. “A lot of the times I’m in my travelling clothes.”

Suki tilted her head. “Right.”

She removed her gloves and shoes. “Let’s get this off of you,” she said, gesturing to his heavy robes.

Zuko nodded, allowing her to lift the shoulder piece over his head.

He counted himself lucky she’d chosen to drop the topic. 

He’d figured she’d catch on to him sneaking out as the Blue Spirit from the start, but he preferred that that information stayed a poorly kept secret amongst the guards rather than public knowledge.

She unpinned his robe, revealing a simple long sleeved tunic and woven pants tucked into his travelling boots.

Suki looked at him. “Planning on going somewhere?” she asked, guiding him to sit at the foot of his bed.

Zuko ran another hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wasn’t when I got dressed.”

“But you are now,” Suki said, sitting down next to him.

He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s just—” he hesitated.

Suki took his hand and squeezed it, a silent encouragement to continue.

“I was thinking about my sister,” he admitted.

He felt her hand twitch.

“Oh.”

Zuko swallowed. “I know she’s done terrible things. But she’s just a kid. And she’s only a year older than I was when I was banished. I just—” he looked down at his hands. “I guess I understand her, you know? She’s spent her whole life under our father’s thumb, constantly seeking his approval, but he cast her aside the second she stopped being useful to him. I had Uncle and our mom. She didn’t have anyone but him.”

Suki leaned back, and he placed his head in her lap. 

“Even Mai and Ty Lee only stuck around because they were afraid of her,” Zuko said, allowing his eyes to fall closed. “And she knew that. And I think she took that fear and turned it into an armor, you know? They feared her, but she tried to convince herself it’s only because she wanted them to—because they’re easier to control that way.”

Suki hummed. “I think it’s natural for you to feel empathy and compassion for your sister,” she said, weaving her fingers through his hair. “You might be on opposite sides, but you’re siblings at the end of the day. And it hurts to see them in pain.”

He opened his eyes. “It’s just—if Katara and Sokka had found Aang when I was her age…” he trailed off. “I had a hard enough time realizing our father was wrong at sixteen. I don’t know if I would have come around at all if all this happened when I was fourteen.”

Suki ran her fingers along his scalp. “I think you would have made the same decisions you did now,” she said. “You’ve got a good heart, Zuko. And I think that’s something you had before being banished too.”

Zuko chewed the inside of his cheek. “Father always said my sentimentality was weakness,” he said. “I know that’s not true now but—growing up, it was one of the reasons father saw me as a lost cause.”

He released his cheek. “Worse, the sages say I didn’t have the ‘Firebender Spark’ behind my eyes when I was born.”

But Azula’s did.

He’d heard whispers in the palace his entire childhood: of the ferocity of Azula’s spark, how it rivalled or possibly surpassed Ozai’s own.

He tilted his head to one side then the other, hearing the satisfying _crack_ of the day’s tension releasing from his neck. “There’s an old Fire Nation legend—of the Firebender who first harnessed lightning.” Zuko started. Some part of him noted how much he sounded like Uncle. Fitting, seeing as Iroh was the one who had told him this tale. “There was a powerful firebender who led one of the fire clans prior to the unification. His lands were shrinking due to the encroachment of another clan, and he was losing warriors, and fast. It’s said that he went into the mountains to meditate, to pray to Agni for something he could use to protect his people. While he was meditating, a storm brewed overhead. The rain soaked him to the bone; he saw lightning streaking through the sky around him, and felt the rumble of thunder in his chest.

Zuko took a breath. “The leader knew the mountain was the highest point in the valley, and that it was no longer safe for him to stay. But he did not move. He continued in his meditation, even as wind battered him, and lightning struck the ground around him. Agni, impressed with his single mindedness, sent him a sign. Lightning struck a tree nearby, and the tree caught on fire. The leader watched the tree burn, and he finally understood. Lightning and fire—they’re just two different forms of energy. By imitating the sharp, decisive strikes of the lightning surrounding him, the leader learned to bend lightning himself. He took a risk, and learned to harness the storm for his purposes.”

Zuko shifted. “I think that’s what our father saw Azula as: a useful weapon, but one that had to be controlled.”

He closed his eyes again.

“You know how powerful she is. That power made her a threat. But she was a threat he could control and direct, as long as he could maintain her loyalty. He built her up on his approval and groomed her to only see her worth in how useful she could be to him.”

He paused. “I guess he did that to both of us.”

But he was more successful with Azula.

Zuko—for all his competence—had gained his skill from over a decade of struggling and fighting to make something of himself. His was the skill of scrappers, who had fought tooth and nail for acknowledgement. He approached other skills with a ferocity and determination, eager to make up for his lackluster firebending.

Azula on the other hand was a natural-born prodigy. Firebending came as easy as the breath in her lungs. With such power and precision, “elective” skills like sword fighting were unnecessary.

From their father’s perspective, why would he bother with Zuko—who had the affection of Ursa and Iroh—when Azula had none of the support to keep her from bending to his will, and was the superior sibling to begin with?

Suki spoke. “The way your father treated the two of you was cruel. Seeing children as tools to be exploited…I can’t imagine growing up in that environment.”

Zuko didn’t have a reply for that. 

“I let him turn us against one another,” he murmured instead. He kept his eyes closed, unsure of whether he could handle seeing whatever unearned sympathy Suki had for him. “I’m her older brother, I should have protected her.”

“No,” Suki said, brushing his cheek. “Zuko, that was never your fault. You were a child. That was a failure on the part of the adults in your life, not you.”

“I don’t regret being banished,” he said. “But I regret leaving her alone. Azula had a mean streak before I left, and we were never too close in the first place, but whatever happened in that three years…it changed her. I just—I guess I wish I could have been there for her.”

“Well, you can be there for her now.” Suki replied.

Zuko cracked an eye open. “I think I’m the last person she wants in her life right now.”

Suki shifted so that Zuko’s head was on the bed. “True, but there’s no harm in trying,” she said. “And we both know you’ll keep agonizing over this until you do.”

“You have a lot of empathy for my sister,” he said. “I know you’re forgiving, but—she wronged you specifically.”

His friend quirked a brow. “Do you remember how you burned down my village?”

Zuko’s stomach twisted. “Point taken.”

“This war has taken so much from all of us,” Suki murmured, lying back on the bed. “Yes, Azula has done things that impacted me specifically. But so has Ty Lee. And Mai. And you. See more families torn apart—that’s not something I want. Even if the people in them have hurt me.”

Zuko propped himself up on his elbow. “What about families that have hurt the entire world for generations?”

He had his own reservations after all.

Maybe after everything his family had done, their family deserved to burn.

But he also knew there was too much work to be done to give into that line of thinking. It was self-indulgent.

Suki closed her eyes. “You are working to make amends for yourself and your family. I don’t think there are many out there who doubt your dedication to that.”

Zuko snorted. “That would explain the assassins.”

She opened her eyes to glare at him. “Zuko, I’m being serious. You’re trying to make amends for a hundred years of war by yourself. As an Earth Kingdom citizen, I can appreciate your effort and that your actions match your promises.” She moved so that they were at eye level on the bed. “And as your friend, I want you to be able to have that closure.”

Suki closed her eyes again, folding her hands over her stomach. “You’re a good person, Zuko,” she said. “I think you’ve always been one, you just made bad decisions because you thought they were the right thing to do.” 

When Zuko didn’t respond, she continued. “And I know your sister is her own person. I’m well aware of what she’s done to the Kyoshi Warriors specifically. I know her record in the Earth Kingdom.” She paused. “But I think there’s some good in her too. It’s just buried deep beneath your father’s influence.”

“Yeah, really, _really_ deep.” 

Suki laughed. “Well it’s in there somewhere.” She sat up. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do this, because this is your decision. But it sounds like you were already planning on going to visit her. If that’s the case, I’ll support you in it.”

Zuko mulled that over.

Did he want to see his sister?

The answer, obviously, was yes. He wouldn’t be so conflicted if he didn’t.

But he wasn’t sure what he’d find there. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen her. 

At first, it had been compassion that kept him away—or at least, that’s what he called it at the time.

He knew he couldn’t hide the pity in his eyes. And he knew that pity would be fuel in Azula’s fire. He might as well be torturing her.

Looking back, he knew it was actually fear.

Azula was every twisted, cruel trait he’s cultivated to please his father amplified, distorted, and reflected back at him. Beyond that, she was _suffering_ , and he had done nothing but add to it.

And he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that.

After that, it was shame that kept him away.

He wanted to be a good brother, but he’d allowed that fear to rule him. How could he face her now, after all the ways he’d failed her?

 _It’s not just on you,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sokka whispered in the back of his mind. _Azula was cruel to you, she pushed you away at every turn. Connection isn’t just one sided._

_Azula failed you too._

But he was still her older sibling. Cruelty or not, he was supposed to keep her safe.

He couldn’t change what had happened between them. But maybe he could make things right now, or at least start down that path.

Zuko pushed off the bed. “If I’m going to the prison, I’ll need to keep a low profile,” he said. “But I’ll need a lookout.”

Suki grinned. “Got an extra opera mask?”

Zuko pointed to the table next to his bed. “The drawer: it’s a false panel.”

His friend pulled open the drawer and removed the false panel.

She whistled, pulling out a worn oak box. “I knew that drawer was suspicious,” she said. She placed the box on the bed and opened it, revealing a cloth lined interior, and four opera masks. Zuko grabbed the Blue Spirit mask.

Suki bit back her smile. “This would explain why you pardoned the Blue Spirit.”

Zuko shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “The Blue Spirit freed Avatar Aang from Admiral Zhao’s prison. As far as I’m concerned, they’re a hero.”

She nodded and picked up the mask that resembled a lion’s head. “Right. Just like Wang Fire.”

“Wang Fire is a war criminal,” Zuko said, deadpan. “He attacked a waterbender and earthbender unprovoked, and died a coward’s death for it.”

“Did he now?” Suki mused.

She put the lion’s mask down. “Leaves the mouth exposed,” she said, grabbing the other mask.

Suki placed it over her face. “This will do nicely.” Though he couldn’t see it, Zuko could hear the grin in her voice.

She’d picked the plain white mask with blue spots over the eyes.

Zuko felt the corner of his lips pull up. “In the play these masks are from, that character was one of the Blue Spirit’s companions,” he said.

“Is that so?” Suki said, her voice muffled by the mask. “Well, I guess this was a good choice.”

Zuko hummed, walking over to his dresser. He pulled out two black hooded tunics, two sets of gloves and a set of trousers, tossing one of each to Suki. “Here. As much as I appreciate your uniform, it’s a bit to uh—”

“—flashy?” Suki said, sparing him from having to say it himself.

Zuko nodded. “My drawing room is empty. Come out when you’re ready.”

He turned to face his mirror, hearing Suki’s soft footfalls as she made her way into the adjoining room.

Then came the hard part. Zuko removed his tunic, and winced at the way the fabric chafed against the burn scar on his abdomen.

He allowed himself a moment to stare at it.

Initially, the scar’s borders seemed fairly discrete. But as it healed, the scar seemed to branch out, growing from a fist sized scar to one that spidered up onto his chest.

Sometimes at night, he could almost feel it pulse.

_What’s another scar from a family member?_

He pulled the tunic on and tucked his hair into the hood, ignoring the way the tighter tunic burned as he yanked it over the mark.

He put on his gloves, then positioned the mask on his face and secured it in place.

“Ready when you are,” Suki announced, walking back into the room.

Zuko looked at her in the reflection of the mirror. “Before we go, there’s one thing I need to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not the person Azula had a personal grudge against,” Zuko started, turning to face her. “I need to talk to Mai and Ty Lee.”

Suki nodded. “Ty took the night off to visit her girlfriend,” she said. “So both of them will be at Mai’s house.”

Zuko grabbed his swords. “Good. I think we should pay them a visit.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's a link to my atla tumblr](https://tophagentofchaos.tumblr.com/) :)  
> I'm hoping to have an update out soon!


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